


Finding God

by castielshoneybee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Chuck has to dad, Chuck is God, Chuck is So Done, Chuck plays guitar, Dean has a lot of porn, F/M, Fluff and Smut, God mojo, Lucifer is a Little Shit, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Season/Series 12 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielshoneybee/pseuds/castielshoneybee
Summary: You find out Chuck is God, but it doesn't stop the crush you developed on him when he was just Chuck.





	1. Wherein the Reader Babysits the Most Powerful Being in All Creation

Pain. Excruciating pain. That's the last thing you remember after the fog crept under the door and enveloped you. Dean refused to let you stay with him and Sam, pushing you into the room with the others, but it didn't matter. The fog got in. You open your eyes and lift your hands in front of your face. The black is gone. You look around at the others in the room. Everyone is stirring, getting to their feet, hugging. You run to the door and open it, stepping into the other room to be greeted by the brothers, both fine. Everything suddenly seems to be fine, but something in Dean's hand is glowing with a blinding white light. You run over to them, your eyes tearing between their faces and what you can now see is Dean's old amulet. You leave the station, not saying a word, and work your way down the street. People are enacting the same scene you saw in the station. Everyone is hugging, everyone is looking around in wonder. Ahead, you see a man helping a woman to her feet. He turns around, and your breath catches in your throat. The amulet in Dean's hand glows bright. It's Chuck.

“We should probably talk.”

****

Holy shit, Chuck is God. You're back at the bunker. Sam is babbling, and Dean is sullen. You sit as far away from Chuck as you can. You had a serious crush on him back when he was Chuck the prophet. There was something about him that drew you to him. He was geeky, and awkward, and self effacing, and adorable, and you seriously considered making a move, but with the apocalypse, and with Crazy Becky, it just never seemed to be the right time. Then when it was over, he disappeared, so it just never happened. At this point it was probably for the best that it hadn't. Dating God. That would've been so weird. You sneak a glance over at him. He looks like the same old Chuck. Same beard, same unruly curls, same beautiful blue eyes, same ugly green jacket. You feel the butterflies in your stomach and try to clamp them down and pay attention to what's going on.

****

“Okay, this shouldn't take long. The fog is long gone by now. Look after Chuck, okay?” You nod. Dean gives you a quick hug and follows Sam out the door. They're headed for Lewis, Oklahoma to interview the sole survivor of the latest fog massacre, so it’s not necessary for all of you to go. You got the short straw, so you get Godsitting duty. You plop into the nearest chair.

“Hey, Chuck! Wanna order Chinese?” He doesn't answer, so you work your way down the hall toward his room. The door is ajar, so you approach. You're about to knock when you realize Chuck just got out of the shower and is standing in just a towel. You freeze. You know you should leave, but you can't seem to pull your eyes away from the muscles in his back as they ripple with his movement. The towel drops. You almost let out an audible gasp. His ass is small and perfect, with two dimples right where his lower back meets it. You feel yourself getting wet. Pink cheeked, you run back to your room and shut the door, pressing your forehead against it. You cannot be having these types of thoughts. He's God! This is crazy! You can't help it, though. All those old feelings you had for him come crashing back. If you're being honest with yourself, it had always been more than a crush. Your hand snakes down, seemingly of its own accord, and you cup your mound. _My god, Chuck, why do you do this to me? I really hope he didn't hear that. It wasn't a prayer, was it?_

“Yeah, it was.” You spin around, hand flying to your side, and he's standing behind you, smiling that serene little smile. You feel your cheeks flush. “So, tell me,” he steps close and lays his hand on your cheek, “What do I do to you?” You lean into his touch and place your hand on his chest. He's God, right? Might as well be honest. 

“You make me want you. You always have, but I suspect you already know that.”

“I do. I just wanted to hear you say it.” He looks deep into your eyes. “You don't have to be afraid. I'm still me, the same me you've always known. I still love Star Wars and comic books and music. I’m just a little...more than you thought I was.” He leans forward and gently presses his lips to yours. You part your lips slightly, and he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth and sliding his hand onto your waist. Your free hand threads through his hair. How you've longed to run your fingers through those curls. Chuck presses you against the door, his kiss becoming more insistent. You clutch at one another, the need to feel each other becoming desperate. Chuck breaks the kiss and reaches down to pull at the hem of your shirt, dragging it up over your head. His own follows yours to the floor a moment later, and then he's back, trailing kisses down your neck as your head falls back against the door. He cups your breast, rubbing your nipple through your bra with his thumb. His other hand reaches up your back to unclasp it, but he can't get it undone. He struggles for a moment, sending his other hand in to join the fight, and a little giggle escapes you. “What?”

“Almighty Father of Creation, and a bra clasp trips you up?” He gives you a cheeky grin and flicks his finger. The bra is gone, and so are the rest of your clothes. He bites his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. It makes you feel a little self conscious, and you blush again. 

“You know that blush is adorable?” You blush even more, and he laughs. “Don't feel weird. You don't know how many times I imagined what you looked like. Turns out you're even more beautiful than I thought, and I've got a pretty powerful imagination. I came up with the platypus, after all.” You both laugh, diffusing the tension. He takes both your hands in his and leads you over to the bed, then pulls you back into his embrace. You feel his hardness pressing through his jeans and clear your throat. “What?”

“Pants. You're still wearing them.” He smiles and flicks his finger again, and you feel his erection press against your bare skin. His hands grip your hips.

“Better?”

“Mmm hmm.” You press your lips to his throat, and he angles his head back on a moan. The sound emboldens you, so you press your hands to his shoulders and push him down onto the bed, then take a minute to study him. He's soft, and you like that. Hunters tend to be all planes and angles. His cock juts out proudly. That part’s definitely not soft.

“What?” He looks up at you, his expression quizzical. 

“Just taking my turn. You know, you're better than I imagined, too.” You drop to your knees at his feet and position yourself between his thighs, regarding him for a moment as he looks down at you in anticipation. A tiny smile flicks over your face before you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock to the tip. His head falls back onto the bed. You circle your tongue around the tip, then take him into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks to give him more friction, and he groans. You work him with your mouth and hand until he's hopelessly moaning, muscles twitching, hands fisted in the sheets. He begins thrusting his hips, and you set your pace to match his. His thrusts stutter, and he empties himself down your throat on a long groan. You climb onto the bed and crawl up his body, straddling his hips and leaning down for a long kiss. It doesn't take long before you feel him hardening against you. You break the kiss. “Hmm, already?”

“Being God has its perks.” He pulls you down and crushes his mouth to yours again, tongues tasting one another until he's fully hard again. You lift yourself, lining up, and sink onto him. You stay still for a moment, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up, then start to move. The leisurely pace you set doesn't last long, you both need more, so you roll your hips faster, meeting his upward thrusts. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Chuck move his finger against the sheets. Suddenly, your core is filled with warmth and your clit tingles as if a thousand tiny fingers are on it. You come intensely, riding wave after wave of pleasure like nothing you've ever experienced before. Chuck falters beneath you, his groan joining your scream as he spills inside you. You fall on top of him, completely spent and unable to move. Eventually you gain some mobility and manage to fall to the side, snuggling against him.

“God mojo?”

“Yep. Told you being God has its perks.”


	2. Wherein the Reader Plays Stepmom and Chuck Plays the Guitar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight with Amara looms.

You're sitting at the map table eating leftover Chinese and watching some tv on Dean's laptop when the boys return. Chuck's legs are propped up on the table, and yours are draped across his lap. He leans over and feeds you some of his noodles, laughing when you slurp them. You look up when the door opens and Dean comes down the stairs, taking in the fact that the two of you are looking very chummy. You giggle at Dean's embarrassment when Chuck busts him on all the porn on his computer. He does have some good stuff on there, though. You blush a little, remembering some of the reenactments you and Chuck tried when you found it all. You shiver and bring your attention back to the conversation, noticing the knowing, amused, and decidedly wicked look on Chuck's face when he sees your pink cheeks. Dean is thankfully oblivious. He explains that they think they've found the next prophet, and he asks Chuck to give him a bit of a pep talk. He calls for Sam to bring him in, and you pull your legs off Chuck's lap so he can stand up as Sam and the prophet descend the staircase. Dean raises an eyebrow at you. You shrug. You watch the exchange between Chuck and the prophet Donatello, you're guessing named after the artist, not the Ninja Turtle, with mild interest and some amusement. It's funny, since you and Chuck became “You and Chuck,” you’re a lot less freaked out about everything. Maybe his attitude is rubbing off on you. Maybe it's faith. You have faith in Chuck. When it's clear Donatello is on board, Chuck sits back at the table and turns the laptop back on. Donatello stands there, nonplussed. You put your food on the table and stand up. 

“Come on, man, I'll get you settled in.” You give Chuck a quick, absent kiss on top of his head and trail your fingers across the back of his neck as you pass. You don't notice the look Sam and Dean exchange. You assign Donatello a bedroom, show him where the bathroom is, then take him to the kitchen and get him some coffee, sitting across from him.

“Are you an angel or something?” He looks at you, still a little shell shocked.

“No, I'm just a person. Most angels are real assbutts.”

"I'm sorry, they're what?"

"Nevermind. It's sort of an inside joke. Anyway, I'm definitely no angel. Why?"

“It just seemed like back there, you and God…”

“Chuck. He really prefers Chuck.”

“Chuck.” He shakes his head a little. “It seemed like you and Chuck were…”

“Yeah, me and Chuck are. I've known him a long time. We used to think he was a prophet like you. We only recently found out he's the big man. He's been among humans for a long time, and, yeah, he's God and everything that goes with that, but he's more human than you'd think. We were created in his image, after all. He has a lot of the same frailties and failings that we have, despite all his power. He's actually a really good guy.” Your conversation is interrupted when Dean walks in.

“Can I talk to you?” You excuse yourself and follow Dean out of the kitchen. “Metatron called while we were on the road. He says he has something really important he needs us to see. Something about Chuck. Stay here and keep an eye on the prophet, okay? We probably shouldn't leave him alone with Chuck.”

“Adding prophetsitting to my list of duties, Winchester?” You've reached the map room. 

“Looks like you didn't mind Godsitting so much.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. “Come on, Sammy. Let's hit the road.”

****

“Hey, can we talk?” You're poking through the library looking for something to read when Sam approaches you.

“Sure, shoot.” You pull out a chair and sit down. He spins a chair around next to you and sits, leaning his elbows on the chair back. 

“So, are you and Chuck like, together?”

“Yeah, we are.” You smile thinking of him, but Sam knits his brows. 

“You know that's not gonna end well, right?”

“You may be right, but you know, with the end of all creation facing us, I figure I'm just going to take my happiness where I can get it. Chuck makes me happy.” He regards you for a moment, then nods. 

“Fair enough, but would you do us all a favor and get him to cool it on the Bob Dylan singalongs at 4 in the morning?” You laugh, and the sound breaks any lingering tension. 

“Oh, I can think of a few things I can occupy him with at 4AM instead.” Sam covers his eyes and sits back.

“I did not need to hear that. Thank you for scarring me for life.” He gets up, and as he's leaving the room, you notice what looks like a manuscript poking out from under his coat on the chair. You move over to it and pick it up.

“God. An Autobiography.” You sit down and begin to read. 

****

You're still sitting in the chair when Chuck comes in. The smile drops from his face when he sees what you have in front of you.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I...well...yes...I-I would've...e-eventually.” He lets out a sigh and sits down next to you, taking your hand. “I have to do this.”

“You've had this planned the whole time. Why would you do this to me? Why did you make me love you just in time for you to sacrifice yourself? She's going to kill you, then she's going to destroy everything. Please fight.” He lets out a bitter little laugh. 

“That's almost the exact same thing Dean said to me. Well, minus the loving me part. He thinks I'm a dick. I admit it was selfish of me to drag you into a relationship knowing how things are going to end, but I wanted one last chance to be happy. You love me?”

“Yes, you idiot. Dean's right. Chuck, I don't know what's going to happen, but I don't want to lose you. I...I'm terrified, but being with you, I feel safe. I love you, Chuck, and that probably doesn't matter much to you, but it means everything to me, and I can't lose you. Please, you can't let her kill you.”

“I'll be caged like she was, not dead. In exchange, she'll leave creation alone. This is the only thing that will save everything.” He pauses, looking deeply into your eyes. “It's the only thing that will save you. I have to save you.”

“Chuck?”

“Yeah?”

“If we don't find another way, and it comes down to this, take me with you.”

“What?”

“Into the box. I want to go with you.”

“No! Why would you even think to do that?”

“I’d be with you. That's all that matters. Please. Take me with you.” He closes his eyes and nods his head. 

“Okay.” You know he's lying. 

****

Lucifer. It's so strange to see Castiel standing there and knowing it's not Cas on the inside. You stand close to Chuck, trying to give him some comfort as the two confront one another. It's not pretty. Lucifer is being petulant. They argue, and he storms off. This plan is never going to work if they can't at least call a truce.

****

You knock on the door to Sam's room. Sam and Dean already tried to reason with Lucifer, but he wouldn't listen. You figure it can't hurt if you try too. 

“Lucifer? You need to talk to your father.” This is so surreal, like some kind of fucked up Brady Bunch. Lucifer turns the music down and pokes his head out the door. Well, that's further than the boys got at least. 

“Don't try to act like you're my mom just because you're screwing my dad.” Okay, this is officially the weirdest conversation you've ever had.

“I'm not trying to act like your mom, but you and your father need to work this out if we’re going to have any hope of stopping Amara.”

“He knows where to find me.” He slams the door and turns the music back up. 

****

“Honey, you need to talk to him.”

“He's behaving like a child.”

“And he's going to continue to behave that way until the two of you have it out once and for all.” He sighs. 

“Fine.”

****

So, this is it. All the pieces are in place. This better work. You can't lose Chuck. Everyone's sort of wasting time, waiting to put the plan into effect. You go back to your room. You can't stand the way everyone's just sitting around staring at one another. You lie on the bed, put your headphones on, and close your eyes. You wake up to the feeling of soft lips and scratchy beard on your neck. You open your eyes and pull your headphones off, dropping them over the side of the bed. 

“Hey.” Chuck's azure eyes look down from where he's hovering over you.

“Hey. Finally had enough of the sausage fest out there?” His laugh makes your insides go all gooey. 

“Yeah, more than enough. I was wondering where you'd gotten to.”

“If I'd had to listen to Dean drum his fingers for another minute, I would've gone insane.” You glance over at the clock on the nightstand. “So, we have a few hours until the big event.” You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. “Any ideas on how to kill the time?”

“Are you giving me the last night on earth speech? Because I already wrote that scene with Dean and Jo.”

“If I remember correctly, Jo didn't fall for it. I think our scene will end a little differently.” You pull him down and capture his mouth in a long kiss. You feel the velvety softness of his lips, the heat of his tongue, the way his beard scratches and tickles at the same time, the way his hair curls around your fingers as you weave them through it, and you try to imprint it all on your memory in case things go south. You know he's not going to take you with him into the box, hell, you don't even know if he'd be able to, so you want to remember him, remember everything about your too short time together. He trails a line of kisses across your jaw and down your neck, stopping and paying extra attention at the spots that he knows drive you crazy. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you up to sitting so he can drag your shirt over your head, then follows with his own while you reach behind your back, unclasp your bra, and pull it off. He dives back to you, pushing you down onto the bed. He gently takes your nipple into his mouth, softly sucking while he rolls your other nipple between his fingers. You arch against him, a soft moan escaping your mouth. He switches, giving the second nipple the same attention as the first, then kisses down your stomach, running feather light touches across the anti possession tattoo on your hip bone. He moves lower, positioning himself between your open legs, and drags your pants down, pulling them and your panties off before quickly divesting himself of his jeans and boxers. He repositions himself, then peppers your inner thighs with kisses. He wants to prolong this as much as you do. The scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs sends heat straight to your core, and you find yourself squirming against him.

“Chuck, please.” It comes out needier than you intend. He chuckles a little, but he stops teasing you and moves his kisses to your mound. He dips a tongue into your slit, flicking it against your clit and causing you to moan. Once he starts, he's like a man possessed, working you with such expert precision that it isn't long before you're writhing, fisting your hands in the sheets, and unable to make any sounds that aren't incoherent groans and gasps. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them the perfect amount to hit your g-spot with every thrust. The combination of his fingers and his talented tongue sends you careening over the edge, thighs pressing against either side of his head with the intensity of your orgasm. You look down, and he's smiling up at you, his beard glistening with your juices. He climbs up your body, cupping your cheek in his hand and giving you a tender kiss.

“Turn over and get on your hands and knees.” He moves away, and you eagerly comply. It's your favorite position. He lines up behind you and thrusts into you to the hilt. He sets a leisurely pace, the position allowing him to go deep. He grips your hips as he thrusts, and you push back to meet him. He takes his time, building you up until the feeling overwhelms you. He increases his pace when you start whimpering, overcome with sensations and emotion. He drives you over your peak, then pounds into you rapidly, chasing his own. He finds it and falls forward, draping himself over your back and pushing you onto your stomach. He rolls off, and you cuddle against him. “You should nap.”

“Not a chance. I'm not wasting what could be our last moments together sleeping. Play something for me?” He gets his guitar, perching on the bed next to you. He plays songs of love, of longing, of loss. It fills your heart. This is how you'll remember him best. Naked, perfect, strumming his guitar, and singing what's in his heart. There's a knock. Chuck stops playing. Dean's voice filters through the door. 

“Guys? It's showtime.”


	3. Wherein the Final Battle Ensues, and Chuck Leaves a Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle with Amara, and the aftermath.

“Come on, baby, hang on.” You and Sam help Chuck sit on the steps. Everyone's freaking out, Chuck is dying, and Amara’s in the wind. Dean stomps off toward the kitchen with Sam and Cas on his heels. You help Chuck over to a chair so he can get a little more comfortable, and Rowena starts tutting around him like a mother hen before deciding he needs a cup of tea. Crowley digs out some whiskey while warning Chuck to watch out for Rowena. “Hey, can I have some of that?” He pours you each a glass, then settles in the corner with the bottle. Then it's Dean and Cas going on a run, Rowena nattering on about whatever to Chuck, who serenely sips his tea, Crowley in the corner looking like he wishes the ground would swallow him up, Sam pissed, and you. Every sound around you melds into a low buzz. The plan failed. Amara did something, and now Chuck is dying. He's dying, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Of all the scenarios that ran through your head leading up to this, Chuck dying never once occurred to you. He's God. How is he dying? You can't stand the buzzing around you anymore, so you grab your whiskey, throw your chair back, and stomp out of the room.

****

“Hey.” Chuck leans casually against the doorframe, though it's clear he's using it to prop himself up. You rush over to him.

“What the hell are you doing? You need to be saving your energy!” He drapes his arm over your shoulder, and you lead him over to the bed. He sits down gratefully.

“When you didn't come back for a few minutes, I wondered where you were.”

“I couldn't deal with all of them. I needed to be alone for a few minutes.” You take a slug of your whiskey, then offer it to Chuck. He takes it and finishes it off.

“We have a plan. If we kill Amara, it may counteract my death and allow creation to continue. I don't want this, but if we don't, everything is destroyed, and she'll die anyway.”

“But you still die regardless.” He looks at you, eyes tired, skin pale.

“Yeah. There's no getting around that. Dean may too.” He explains the plan to gather souls for a bomb and tells you about Sam and Dean going out to gather ghosts. “You know, it's funny. I've never thought about dying before. Well, at least not my own death. Now that I'm facing it, I'm trying so hard to keep calm. They need me to, but inside, I'm terrified. I've never felt like this before. Do you think...could you maybe just hold me?” You hadn't seen Chuck this unsure since he was “a prophet.” Wordlessly, you gather him into your arms and stay like that for a long time.

****

It took some help from Billie the reaper, but you have enough souls for the bomb. Dean is resolute, despite knowing that he's going to die. After Rowena places it in his chest, Dean wants to say a last goodbye at his mother's grave. It's a reasonable last request, so you all pile into your car and the Impala. You watch as Sam and Dean gather at the headstone and talk, then Dean approaches. He gets reassurance from Chuck, then turns to you.

“Hey, you know, me and Sammy have made our family over the years, and you're one of the best things to come into our lives. You're our sister. Could you help Cas take care of him when I'm gone?”

“Of, course, Dean. I would've even if you hadn't asked.” You hug, and you feel tears prick your eyes. He turns away. He and Cas hug, and you lean into Chuck and whisper.

“I wish those two would've figured out they're in love.”

“Me, too, but you know, free will.” After all the goodbyes are said, Chuck zaps Dean away, and you all stand staring at one another for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. Crowley breaks the silence.

“I don't know about you lot, but I could use a drink.” You pile back into the cars and head for the nearest bar, which is closed. That's not an obstacle, and in a moment you're all inside. You sit snuggled up to Chuck, wanting to be close to him for as long as you can. He's getting weaker and weaker, and as he does, the sun dims more and more. 

“Chuck?”

“What is it, sweetheart?

“I love you. I don't want you to leave me.”

“I love you too, and I wish I didn't have to.” He leans over and gives you a tender kiss, then the two of you sit, just staring into one another's eyes and soaking in the last moments of closeness. Sam comes over to where you’re sitting.

“Hey, Chuck. How you holding up?”

“Oh, aces.” He is so not aces at this point, and all of you know it, but he's still trying to be strong.

“You know, we, um, we need you to try and hang in there just a little longer.”

“I know. I'm trying.” You squeeze his arm and lean your head on his shoulder.

“I'm gonna go get you some water.” Sam turns and walks over to the bar. You run your fingers through Chuck's curls and smile at him. He smiles back, and then your hands are empty.

“Chuck?” He's gone. Your heart feels as empty as your hands, and you begin to quietly weep. Minutes pass, and nothing happens. The sun is still dim, but the world's still there. Suddenly, the day begins to brighten. The five of you look at one another, then run outside. When the realization hits that Dean actually did it, you wrap your arm around Sam's waist, giving him what comfort you can, and he pulls you into a hug, giving you some comfort back.

****

“So I'll see you guys at home.” Crowley and Rowena have gone, and Cas and Sam climb into the Impala to head back to the bunker. You get into your car and get on the road. Chuck's gone, Dean's gone, and the world is still spinning. You think about his smile, the way his eyes sparkled. You think about the feel of his arms around you. You remember how he made you laugh. You remember him sitting naked on your bed, playing his guitar. The tears come, hotly coursing down your cheeks, and you have to pull over. You lean your forehead on the steering wheel, sobs wracking your body.

“Why are you crying, beautiful?” You bolt upright. This has to be some sort of grief induced hallucination. You can't form words, and you sit there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you gape at him. He smiles and touches your cheek, and your voice comes back to you. 

“You're alive?” He nods. “And Dean?” He nods again. “How?”

“Dean. He stepped up, like I knew he would. He talked Amara down. She gave me my light back.”

“Dean ‘Shoot First, Ask Questions Later’ Winchester talked her down?” Chuck laughs. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

“He did. Listen, I have to go away for a while. Amara and I need to spend some time together, reconnect, figure out how to be a family again. I will be back, though, I promise.”

“I don't want you to go, but I get it. I'm just so glad you're alive.” You throw yourself into his arms. “Do you have to go right this minute?”

“I might have a little time.” He captures your mouth in a kiss. You relish the feeling of his tongue dueling with yours, and you long to feel his skin. You climb over to straddle him, running your fingers through his hair as he clutches your hips. You're not in the mood to drag this out.

“Can you do something about these clothes?” He smiles and flicks his finger, and you feel his erection, bared, pressing against your heat. You don't waste time and sink down onto him, taking him all the way in, needing to feel him inside you. You move at a languid pace, your mingled moans swallowed by one another's mouths. Chuck breaks the kiss and takes your nipple into his mouth as he rolls and pinches the other with his fingers. You throw your head back on a groan and grip his hair tightly, pulling it just a little. He flicks his finger, and you're filled with his love and light. Your body practically vibrates with it. Every sense is heightened. You begin to move faster, but it isn't enough. Chuck flicks his finger again, and you're beneath him in the backseat. He angles himself so he can hit your g-spot and thrusts deeply. You clutch at his back and moan as he leans down and presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, the vibrations from his groans sending shock waves coursing through your body. Heat pools in your belly, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust, every kiss, every moan. His light flows through you, and it feels as though he's everywhere at once. It sends you over the edge, screaming, your walls tightening around his cock. He thrusts harder, intensifying your orgasm even more before following you into bliss, his seed spilling into you. He falls against you, panting and placing tiny kisses wherever his mouth will reach. You lie in silence for a little while.

“I don't want you to go even though I know you have to.”

“I know. I'll always be with you, though.”

“And you'll come back?”

“It may take a while, I don't know how long, but I will. I promise.”

****

**Six Years Later**

You open the bunker door and make your way down the stairs into the map room. Sam and Dean follow behind. You hear footsteps running toward the room.

“Moooooom!” The voices cry out in unison as they barrel around the corner. You drop your bag as they launch themselves into your arms. Mary isn't far behind them.

“How was the hunt?” She takes a sip of her coffee.

“Easy breezy. How were they?”

“Pretty good. The usual twin stuff. Best friends one minute, mortal enemies the next.” Dean gives his mother a quick kiss, and Sam follows.

“Uncle Sam! I had a dream you didn't have any hair! It was so funny!” Sam crouches down.

“That doesn't sound very funny to me, Robbie.”

“But it was! Look!” He flicks his finger, and it's all you can do not to bust out laughing. Mary and Dean, not restricted by the need for parental seriousness, start cracking up. Dean pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.

“Robert Charles Shurley, you give your Uncle Sam his hair back right this minute!”

“I'll do it, Mom!” Your daughter flicks her finger, and Sam's hands fly up to his head as his treasured locks are returned.

“Thanks, Charlie. I swear, when your father comes back, he is going to learn the true meaning of the word smiting for leaving me to deal with you hellions.”

“I am?” You whirl around, and then you're running. He catches you in his arms, holding you tight.

“You're back,” you murmur into his shoulder, breathing deeply to take in the smell of him: cinnamon, freshly cut grass, and warm linens. 

“I told you I would be.” You pull back, and his sky blue eyes gaze fondly into yours before he pulls you into a kiss. When it ends, you turn, wrapping your arm around his waist. He drapes his across your shoulder. 

“Robbie, Charlie, this is your dad. Honey, meet Robert and Charlotte.”

“Hi.”


End file.
